On the Road to Shaolin (4)
The boat guides ushered the martial artists into the cabins.
Seo Baek's group followed one of them down below deck.
The rooms were surprisingly spacious and decent.
Two large beds, a desk, and two chairs—it looked like it had originally been a cabin for dignitaries.
The only drawback was the complete lack of windows.
The ship had been built with size over safety in mind, and given its massive bulk, the hull where it met the water was far too thick to cut windows into.
Apart from the poor ventilation, it was a fine room.
The guide boasted about it as well.
"No guests thanks to the revenant plague, so we're giving you the top suites."
Seo Baek's group was assigned three rooms lined up side by side in the corridor. For now, they gathered in Wang Yi Sam's room in the middle.
Wang Yi Sam flopped onto the bed with a groan.
"Not a single coin wasted on this."
"No kidding."
Gong-gong-gong.
"Lunch is ready on deck. Latecomers go hungry—heads up."
As the group rested, a gong rang out and a guide shouted.
"Damn it, was hoping for a nap."
"You sleep it off. I'll go stuff myself on free lunch."
"Like hell you're going without me."
When Seo Baek's group reached the deck, plenty of other martial artists had already emerged from their cabins.
The guides were handing out soup from massive pots and flatbreads baked from wheat dough.
The group took their bowls of soup and flatbreads, found a spot on one side of the deck, and dug in.
Unexpectedly, the food was pretty good.
The soup was thick with vegetables and loaded with hefty chunks of lamb.
The flatbreads weren't bad either. Chopped green onions mixed into the dough, brushed with sesame oil and baked—simple, but fresh off the fire, steaming hot with a savory umami kick.
Compared to the rickety boats of the Long River Three Gorges Waterway Gang, this Grand Canal packet boat was downright luxurious.
"This is actually edible? Ow, hot!"
"Heard sailors stake their lives on good grub."
"You get it. Ain't much to do on a boat but feed your face."
"And you got plenty to do, but still gorge like a pig?"
"The hell?"
"Didn't say a word. Not food-gluttony—booze-gluttony, that's it."
"You knock back plenty yourself! What's wrong with a man loving his drink?"
The two bantered warmly like old times as they ate.
Once finished, the group returned to their rooms.
Wang Yi Sam flopped onto the bed again.
"Paradise on earth! This is the peach blossom paradise!"
Song Hyeon replied indifferently.
"Don't let your guard down too much."
"C'mon, take a breather. Who starts trouble on a boat floating in the middle of the water?"
Wang Yi Sam had a point.
The Yangtze had gentler currents than Sichuan's treacherous gorges but was far wider and deeper.
If the ship sank, anyone short of walking on reeds across water-level lightness skill and internal energy was doomed to drown.
Even peak experts who survived would burn through stamina and spirit swimming to shore.
Exhausted like that, stumbling into a revenant horde? Certain death.
In other words, isolated on all sides aboard the ship—what fights could there even be? That was Wang Yi Sam's thinking.
But Seo Baek shook his head.
"Something feels off."
"What? That clown with the makeup?"
"Everyone aboard seems suspicious. Like they're all hiding something different."
Song Hyeon nodded in agreement.
"Good eye."
"Tch, I don't see squat. You two are strong, sure, but way too jumpy."
Wang Yi Sam shrugged and muttered.
But Seo Baek's concern proved right.
Three days after departure, a body turned up on the ship.
The first to find it was one of the guides.
Guides only rang the gong twice a day—for morning and evening meals. Otherwise, they ignored what the martial artists got up to.
No one knew if you'd show for chow or hole up in your cabin.
If it were a coastal fishing boat instead of a Grand Canal packet ship, the body might've gone undiscovered even longer.
Fish stench would've masked the rot.
The guide noticed a foul odor seeping from under a door while passing the corridor and reported it to the captain.
The room was locked from inside, so the captain ordered it broken open.
Inside: a corpse on the bed, dead from vomiting blood.
Word spread, and all the martial artists rushed to the deck.
But the captain said nothing special, just ordered his guides to dump the body overboard.
One martial artist, curious, spoke up.
"Man's dead, and that's it?"
The captain turned slowly.
"We run the ship. Lives ain't our problem."
Meaning: kill each other all you want—we don't care.
"But anyone disrupting ship operations? We'll count you enemies of the Canal Gang."
He laid it out plain, and the martial artists scattered like it wasn't their business.
Wang Yi Sam muttered watching it all.
"Tch. Thought it was paradise—turns out it's a damn knife forest."
He was right.
After the body, people's eyes and behavior shifted.
Martial artists locked their doors tight on entering rooms, then barricaded with desks and chairs for good measure.
For nighttime latrine runs or venturing out, they'd peek down the hall, draw swords, and sneak.
No use being cautious after your head's off.
A week passed without incident.
Finally, the ship reached Yangzhou.
Yangzhou: where the Grand Canal to Luoyang began. Normally teeming docks, now deserted from the revenant outbreak.
No new passengers, naturally.
Gazing at the massive canal, Seo Baek felt fresh awe.
"Impressive, eh? Nothing like this in Sichuan."
"None. The Central Plains outdoes the tales."
Wang Yi Sam teased, but Seo Baek readily agreed.
The ship left the Yangtze, entering the waterway linking to the Grand Canal.
The canal had been imperial-run, but with the revenants rampant, the emperor summoned every garrison for his guard—leaving officials and troops shorthanded.
The Canal Gang exploited the gap, running it tax-free. Shrewd, but in chaotic times, you couldn't blame them for carving out survival.
At least it got them to Luoyang.
"Finally on the big canal. Smooth sailing to Luoyang now."
Wang Yi Sam crowed.
But his optimism shattered spectacularly.
The day after entering the Grand Canal, the second body appeared.
Everyone aboard gathered on deck.
"Another body. Anyone know him?"
The captain asked, but the martial artists just eyed each other—no one stepped up.
They were all different sects and styles at a glance. No wonder no one knew the dead man.
As if expecting silence, the captain spoke.
"One more time: Canal Gang takes no responsibility for lives. Settle old grudges, split into factions and slaughter each other—do as you please. We stay out of it."
Grim words, even hearing them twice.
"But disrupt ship ops? We'll treat you as enemies and put you ashore."
One martial artist sneered.
"What if someone kills a guide? Still just ashore?"
Mocking the light punishment for murder.
But the captain didn't flinch, just nodded.
"Exactly."
"……."
The man fell silent, unable to mock further.
(They'd learn later why "ashore" was the worst punishment on a Grand Canal ship. Nothing more terrifying.)
"Handle it."
Two guides stepped forward, ready to toss it overboard like before.
Then someone stopped them.
"Hold."
It was Seo Baek.
The captain sized him up head to toe.
"What is it?"
"This body's different from the first."
"Different how?"
"Sword mark on the neck."
Seo Baek pointed with his index finger.
The crowd saw it: a thin red line around the neck, faint enough to miss at a glance.
Martial artists who lived by the blade knew it instantly.
A sword cut!
But it encircled the entire neck.
Halfway around? Maybe.
Full circle meant decapitated—yet the head was still attached? What the hell?
Reading their eyes, Seo Baek explained.
"The ones roaming Central Plains fields are blood ghosts among revenants. No souls, they charge and bite the living. True revenants are different."
"True revenants?"
"Yes. True revenants can't be distinguished from the living."
"So this corpse is a revenant?"
"That's what we're checking."
"A dead body—how's it a revenant?"
The captain tilted his head.
"How true revenants form isn't fully clear. But one confirmed method exists."
"Which is?"
"Decapitate, then insert a blood thread worm where the brainstem meets the spine."
"……!"
"This one was clearly meant to become a revenant."
The martial artists swallowed hard, tensing.
"Never heard that rumor. How do you know for sure?"
Song Hyeon cut in.
"I vouch for it."
The captain glanced at him.
"You're with his group. Colluding to cover for each other?"
"Believe it or don't. The rumors are true."
Then a martial artist raised a hand.
"I've heard the rumor too."
"Hmph……."
With backing, the captain couldn't dismiss it.
"Either it failed to turn and died, or it's midway. There's a way to check."
"……Do it."
The captain permitted Seo Baek to inspect for a revenant.
The boy, barely out of boyhood, had explained so logically he had no choice but to yield.
Seo Baek pulled an oil flask and flint from his robes, glancing at the deck.
Still damp.
The guides had mopped that morning—plenty of moisture. No risk of the fire spreading wild.
He doused the corpse in oil, struck the flint, and lit it.
Whoosh.
Flames roared up from the body.
The martial artists watched with tense eyes.